Fighter's Game
by PenAngel27
Summary: On the Victory tour, Katniss Everdeen did enough to quench the rebellion. Which means that a different Quarter Quell will be on that card. Which means that District 12 needs new tributes. Will there still be a rebellion when the seventy-fifth Hunger Games is through? That depends. Let the Games begin.
1. Chapter 1

They look so happy on the screen. The Girl on Fire and Peeta Mellark. They're all anyone's talking about- the big wedding, the event of the year. The champions of District Twelve. I find it sickening. How can they be happy? They watched people die, the killed people themselves. And now they cheer and laugh and tell everyone how lucky they are. I don't call it lucky. I call it inhuman. But what can I do? The Games are the Games.

I've always watched the Games. My father gave me no choice. From the age of four, my siblings and I would be trained. Not like they do in District One obviously, we were just taught how to defend ourselves. When Mother protested, Father always said 'I'll not have my children in there with nothing behind them. They'll go down fighting'. So every morning, we would set traps for rabbits in the garden. There were no rabbits in the garden, but Father knew what would work and what wouldn't. We were taught how to shoot straight with a bow. But more importantly, we fought.

My father was a blacksmith and he would save scrap metal whenever he could. With it, he fashioned two swords. One was a heavy blade, hard to handle and the other was light and swift. 'This way, whatever blade you have, you will be able to use it. You will have had lighter, have felt heavier. A skilled swordsman can use any blade.' We named them, the heavy Jewel and the lighter Truth. My sister, Alana, dropped Jewel on her foot the first time she used it and never came to another session. She's two years younger than me and she's stubborn. My brother had no patience with it; he preferred a club or a dagger. I was the star pupil in sword fighting. I learned the dance and mastered it, for as long as I could.

There is only a certain amount of time a girl can spend training in District Twelve. There's school to attend and work to be done. I did a lot of housework and tried to help my mother. Not that she needed it, more often than not she'd tell me to run along. Mother was a superwoman, master of the house and we all knew it. Alana still managed to convince herself that if she didn't feed the chickens, Mother wouldn't be able to cope and everything would descend into ruin. Faron, my brother, chose not to tell her that Mother fed the chickens before Alana was old enough.

Katniss and Peeta return to District Twelve and are greeted by a storm of applause. Katniss looks far happier than she did before. I've never spoken to her; my family live in a richer part of town than hers. Not much richer, but it's an improvement. Obviously this isn't true anymore; she has one of the houses in the Victors Village. I wouldn't want to live there, it's cold and empty. Plus you'd have Haymitch as a neighbour. Yet I find myself heading over there and stopping in front of Peeta's door.

He opens it not long after I knock, "Eva!" he is happy to see me, which I guess surprises me. I don't know why I'm here, I hate him. Hate him for surviving.

"You're alive," I say. That's all I trust myself to say.

"You didn't think I would be, did you? No-one did."

"Do you want the truth or the polite answer?" I can't help slipping back into our old friendship. We had been friends for years, close since we started school. I admit, I didn't think he'd ever survive the Games. He never had time to practise. I knew that. It's not like I did anymore.

"I'm lucky," he gestures for me to come inside.

I'm immediately struck by the glamour of it. It's so clean. It didn't matter how much my mother tried, the base layer of dirt would never come off. That was just District Twelve though. This place was beautiful- more than spectacular. I feel like I can't touch anything, my common hands are unworthy of the furniture. Peeta doesn't seem to feel like that, he throws himself onto the chair. I sit cautiously across from him.

"It's very nice in here," I say quietly.

"Of course it is. The Capitol made it," he sounds happy- genuinely happy. I'm immediately annoyed again.

"Congratulations by the way," I add, not wanting to approach the subject myself.

"Thank you," he pauses for a few minutes. I don't offer any form of conversation and he doesn't seem to be able to form any words. He eventually clears his throat, "Look, what's wrong Eva?"

I want to tell him that he killed people and yet he looks so happy, but all I can manage is "You survived."

His face turns very serious and he comes to sit next to me, "Eveleen, you can't blame me for that. I'm not Faron."

I feel tears rising and collapse into his arms. He strokes my hair, hushing me. I wipe my eyes and straighten up. "It's not that I didn't want you to come back, it's just, why didn't he?"

"I know," Peeta could never be angry with me, "But I was lucky Eva, if I hadn't had Katniss, I'd be dead."

I flinch, knowing it's true. Katniss Everdeen. She's the reason he's here, and yet I don't trust her. She just seems so, false.

"You just seem so happy."

"I am happy," Peeta says and I'm shocked, "I love her and we're both alive. We're getting married. Part of me feels guilty, but what can I do? That's the way it works."

I nod, trying to understand. I fail, but it doesn't matter. He is Peeta and I forgive him. My brother was thirteen when his name was drawn. I was eleven. He was killed after five days by a pack of careers, who found him dying of thirst. I watched every moment, as did my father. Mother and Alana refused to. I saw my brother die and some eighteen year old monster from District One win. My mother turned cold that day. She separated herself emotionally from her children, so that she would never be hurt again. She did the work, fed us, clothed us and provided for us, but she didn't love us. She didn't allow herself too. I hated the Games even more then; they took my brother and my mother.

"We should go; they're announcing the Quarter Quell." Peeta stands up.

I shudder inwardly. The Quarter Quell. A special version of the Hunger Games marking every twenty-fifth Games. How will they increase the horror this time?

We make our way to the square, in front of the large screen that has been placed there. People are already gathered, but they allow us to go forward. Peeta is worshipped as a victor, so they are all desperate to get out of his way. We stop next to Katniss and Gale. They nod in greeting to me; Gale practically ignores Peeta. We all turn our eyes to the screen.

President Snow is on a platform, with all of the Capitol people spread in front of him. He is carrying the box that contains the endless number of Quarter Quells for an endless number of Hunger Games. He greets Panem not exactly warmly and pulls the envelope marked 75 out of the box.

"For the 75th Hunger Games, to show the betrayal of the rebellion, tributes will be put forward by their families in secret in return for a financial reward. The names put forward will enter the draw. Thank you and may the odds be ever in your favour." The screen goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

There is a stunned disbelief from the crowd. It's Katniss who breaks the silence.

"They can't expect families to give up their children."

Gale doesn't look surprised, "Well, the Career Districts will. Their kids will force them too. And a lot of other districts need the money. What's one child when the rest could live with that money? They won't struggle for tributes."

"This is wrong," I say fiercely, "So wrong." Images of my brother's death flood into my mind and I am filled with rage. I know in my heart that Gale's right- people will do this and that is part of what fuel my anger. The Capitol will be alive with excitement with people wondering who will be picked and the genius of the situation. Betrayal. The perfect thing to spice up the Games.

I dash out of the square and go over to the meadow. Despite all that's happened the meadow always looks peaceful. There are a few rocks strewn about the meadow and I approach one. It's large, and although there are larger there's no way I could lift them. I pick up my chosen rock and stagger back to the square. People are still gathered, still talking in nervous whispers. Some have fled back to their houses, perhaps they are comforting their children, telling them that they won't have anything to fear at the reaping. Or perhaps they're keeping quiet, the resolution forming of what they will do. These thoughts are part of the strength that I use to fling the rock through the air and send it smashing into the screen.

It shatters and people jump back to get out of the way of the wreckage. I'm panting, exhilarated by the joy of showing the Capitol. It doesn't occur to me that I may have been stupid. I'm angry, angry at everyone and everything and this has helped to placate me.

Of course, the fact that I'm just standing there watching the results of my actions means that it's very easy for the Peacekeepers to grab me and push me down to the ground. I try squirming, but it's no use. This is what happens when you defy the Capitol.

"Stupid girl," its Gregor, one of the nicer Peacekeepers, "Why would you do that? You know what happens now,"

I grit my teeth, knowing the meaning of his words. There is nothing he can do to help me. I am in deep trouble and I can almost feel the lashings of the whip already. They drag me onto a raised platform and shove me on the floor. People have gathered in the streets again. I see the anxious face of Nyla, my friend from the Seam. I don't know whether people are concerned for my safety or merely in need of entertainment. It seems I will be obliging as they bring out the whip.

Biting my lip, I kneel down and show them my back. When the whip comes down, I don't feel it. It's not until the second lash that it catches up with me. I didn't think this much pain was possible. Yet I find screams catching in my throat and spasms shooting down my spine. I can't breathe; I can't think- I just want to escape the pain. But I control myself- they will not beat me that easily. I am a fighter, an artist and I will not be reduced to tears by them.

Eventually it ends and I roll over, moaning. I can't fight it anymore. The head Peacekeeper turns to the crowd and proceeds to make an announcement.

"Citizens of District 12. You have witnessed an act of violence and stupidity here today. This wretch saw fit to damage Capitol property, shaming you all. For this you will all pay. District 12 shall receive no grain or supplies from the Capitol for a month. Perhaps you will all learn the meaning of discipline that way."

With that, he flings me into the crowd. I know that it's over for me. This crowd will kill me; I as good as stole their food. People will die because of me. I close my eyes and wait for the nails to descend upon me. Instead, strong arms lift me up and carry me away. I can hear yells of protest from the crowd and I agree- better to die now then live with the deaths of others. Then I realise, there will be no deaths. Maybe a few, but not many. Instead, I have just guaranteed a large number of families putting their child forward. For money. For food.

Maybe not though. Lots of families save food because of distrust of the Capitol and will survive a month. Perhaps it will be fine. Most parents put their children before themselves anyway. Comforted by the thought, I close my eyes and succumb to pain.


	3. Chapter 3

When I wake up, I'm back in Peeta's house. I'm being tended to by Mrs Everdeen and Nyla is holding my hand. Peeta is nowhere to be seen.

"Don't move," Mrs Everdeen instructs me, seeing I'm awake, "These are deep and the quicker I get to them, the quicker they heal."

I can't believe that she's treating me. I thought everyone wanted my blood, so it's a surprise to find someone trying to stop the bleeding. I do as she says, not wanting to annoy her. She night remember what I've done. But I can't not say anything.

"I'm sorry," I whisper feebly and she strokes the hair away from my face.

"It's okay," she says, "You were very brave."

"No," I say, my voice stronger, "I was stupid."

She sighs, "We can't all do what we're told Eveleen,"

My voice is small again, "Do they all hate me?"

"Some. But most see why you did it and will get by. Don't worry."

"Why don't you mind?"

She smiles, "I know your father. A good man. Logically, you're a good person too."

I smile and sigh as she rubs a soothing lotion onto my back. One hour later, I leave the house bandaged and hand in hand with Nyla. I had thanked Mrs Everdeen extensively for her trouble and left the house without catching a glimpse of Peeta.

Nyla is four years younger than me, twelve years to my sixteen. She has olive skin, misty grey eyes and curly chestnut hair. She's very small and thin and she can barely lift anything. She's delicate and innocent. The rest of her family are strong miners, she has four older brothers. Her family see her as a useless mouth they're obliged to feed. I found her three years ago, sitting alone in the meadow picking wildflowers. She told me that she didn't like her home, so she stayed there and made chains. I made them with her. And now a solitary flower chain just feels empty. I protect her and she makes me laugh.

I am terrified for her. Her family would sell her in an instant. I wish there was a way I could protect her. She would be killed immediately and I would be alone. Peeta would have Katniss and I would have nothing. I can't lose my flower.

We walk through the now quiet streets to my house. Nyla doesn't speak- she just gives my hand the occasional squeeze. I smile at her and a thought comes to me.

"Wait here," I say, dashing into my house. Everyone is out the back and it doesn't take much to go to out cupboard and take out one of Katniss' squirrels. I run back and give it to Nyla.

"To give to your family." I want her to understand. I want her to somehow realise that every piece of food she takes home is another step in securing her safety.

"We're not a charity Eve," she tells me sharply. She's the only person who calls me Eve. I prefer Eva, but she liked it and I didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise. The same as how right now I can't tell her what the squirrel means. She's innocent and that is something rare and precious here.

"And I'm not a donator," I say, "I give my friends presents, that's all. Now take the damn squirrel."

She rolls her eyes and takes it from me. "I'd best be getting home," she starts walking away, "Be careful Eve."

I nod, wave and go back into the house. Going through to the kitchen, I find my whole family sitting around the rickety wood table. I join them, dreading what's to come.

"How could you do something like that Eva?" Alana's been crying, her eyes are red and puffy.

"I didn't think about it, I'm sorry." I don't want to defend my actions. I thought it was right and it was. It's just the fact they can do this to us that isn't.

"Do you have any idea what this means for us Eveleen? What will happen?" Mother is glaring at me, her eyebrows arched.

"We have enough food, we'll be fine. Everyone will be fine- they'll scrape through."

"I didn't mean that," she puffed in impatience, "You're right but that doesn't matter. How about our _reputation_. Did you think about that? No-one will buy anything from a blacksmith with a daughter like that."

"Dell," my father hisses at her, "Please." He turns to me with his kind eyes, "Are you okay Eva?"

"I'm fine Father. Mrs Everdeen patched me up; it doesn't hurt that much anymore."

He opens his arms, "I'm just thankful that they left some part of you behind. I thought we may not get you back."

I collapse into him, breathing in the smell of coal and ash that always lingers on his clothes. He holds me gently and I feel peaceful, when suddenly a crash snaps me out of it. My mother has left and slammed the door to her room behind her. Father sighs and asks Alana for a cup of tea.

"Shouldn't we save the tea Father? If we won't have supplies-"

"Don't question your father angel, just get the tea."

She nods and dashes to get him some. He leans forward and whispers to me, "Don't worry about your mother. Delline always was a stubborn woman, but she loves you. Deep down she loves you."

I nod, wondering whether the same can be said for Nyla's mother. In my bed later, I can't sleep. One image keeps flying around my head; one of Nyla, helpless and surrounded by knives.


End file.
